He knew it was her the moment he found the mess. A needling of anger and annoyance had risen in him; he knew merely a moment past his shock just why Rebekah would have such a tantrum. His tempestuous little sister's desire for things to be as they were and her forlorn looks as he'd shrugged her off were enough proof of that.
He's angry, despite his actions being the cause. He's angry despite the guilt and shame buried in his chest. (Keeping away from Rebekah has been like losing a limb, but it's for her own good and he's entitled to grow up.) He's angry that she could be this petulant, this needy, this utterly inescapable force demanding from him time and attention. (He'd received a sweet kiss on the cheek for that drawing, and a smile that told him just how it was appreciated. Truthfully, it made his heart race with the knowledge that he could be wanted after all -- as a bastard. There are stories spoken in the village of one of the younger Mikaelson boys, after all, the one who is fair instead of dark. One who is a shame to his father, the one who no girl should want to marry.)
It's that irritation and anger he carries for Rebekah's antics, that anger and guilt for himself into the next day. A confrontation is imminent regardless, but when he sees that brute's hands on his sister and her naive, much too pretty smiles bestowed upon him, there's nothing that can quell the white hot rage he feels.
They's stopped close enough to the brook that he can hear the water flowing just beyond the trees. He meets her fiery gaze with a seething glare of his own.
no subject
He's angry, despite his actions being the cause. He's angry despite the guilt and shame buried in his chest. (Keeping away from Rebekah has been like losing a limb, but it's for her own good and he's entitled to grow up.) He's angry that she could be this petulant, this needy, this utterly inescapable force demanding from him time and attention. (He'd received a sweet kiss on the cheek for that drawing, and a smile that told him just how it was appreciated. Truthfully, it made his heart race with the knowledge that he could be wanted after all -- as a bastard. There are stories spoken in the village of one of the younger Mikaelson boys, after all, the one who is fair instead of dark. One who is a shame to his father, the one who no girl should want to marry.)
It's that irritation and anger he carries for Rebekah's antics, that anger and guilt for himself into the next day. A confrontation is imminent regardless, but when he sees that brute's hands on his sister and her naive, much too pretty smiles bestowed upon him, there's nothing that can quell the white hot rage he feels.
They's stopped close enough to the brook that he can hear the water flowing just beyond the trees. He meets her fiery gaze with a seething glare of his own.
"You owe me an apology, sister."